Apology
by FluffyBlonde
Summary: Everyone deserves a second chance...
1. Hurt

Enjoy!

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We were sitting on our spot on the beach, the September sun grazing the underbelly of the soft clouds floating away into the distance, rendering them a heavenly tint of pink, waves gently lapping on the shore. I feel compelled to say something, yet no words come. I cannot help but feel an anger burning in the pit of my stomach, engorging at the sound of her words. I should be happy. Her quiet apology and even quieter revelation left me speechless and livid. She told me she needed me and then she went and hurt me. My heart told me to tell her it was ok, that she was forgiven and that we could give it a go but unfortunately I found my brain controlling my functions.

"Its too late to apologise, Calleigh." I said, jumping up, preparing to make a hasty retreat off the beach.

"I'm sorry, Eric! I never meant to hurt you. I didn't think you'd turn around." She cried, tears pouring from her eyes, flooding my heart, now begging me to hold her close and tell her it was ok. But I didn't. Instead, I left her there, running away from her, from my feelings like a coward, too proud to accept her apology, replaying that awful, heart breaking scene in my mind again and again and again.

* * *

_I watched her slowly walk towards the elevator. She glances back at me; shooting me the smile only I receive. I knew from the moment I met her that she was 'The One', the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I'd die for her. I need her like a heart needs a beat, like a river needs water, like breathing needs air. I wish I could tell her how much I care, but I know I need to convince myself fully of that first. As the elevator doors slide open, I know my chance has just flown out of the window. Jake waltzes onto the marble floor, covered in cuts and bruises. I think it's going to be ok, that she is going to see him for the bastard he is, but no. My heart stop's as their lips touch, as he pulls her nearer and nearer. My heart breaks as she responds, leaning into the kiss. And then it's all over and she's walking towards the elevator with him, leaving me broken and alone, my heart scattered in pieces along the floor. I suddenly found it amazing how one could go from being on top of the world to being below rock bottom in a matter of seconds, an experience I had endured. She turns. She sees. See's me. See's the hurt. See's the pain she's inflicted. But she stays with him, turning away from my gaze, preferring to ignore the pain she's caused than own up to it. At that moment, I'm not sure if I can ever forgive her._

* * *

She was still sat in the same position when I returned two hours later, despite the rising tide. I hated myself for saying what I did, for acting the way I did. I wished I could take it all back, to snatch the words from the past and bury them in the sand. But I cannot. 

"I'm sorry for what I said." I whisper, putting my arm around her shoulder. I am shocked to find she doesn't try to resist or run away, traits I have come to associate with Calleigh.

"No. You were right to say what you did," She said, fresh tears falling into her lap, "I'm the one who should be sorry… Have you thought about what I said?"

"Yes, and I can't be in a relationship with you right now," I paused as she turned away from me, and I knew, even if she wasn't showing it on the outside, she was crying a river inside, "Are you going to be ok, Angel?"

She turned back towards me at the use of her pet name, but I can see from her eyes she was not.

"The thing is," She whispered, getting up off the sand, "Heavens not the same without you."

And with that, it was her turn to amble away, leaving a shell of a person behind. And it hurt.

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It'll get happier! I promise! Kudos to anyone who can find the blatant song reference. 

Drommie

XOXOXOXOX


	2. From the heart

I realised (With a lot of help from my good friend, for which I am eternally grateful) last night that things need to be let go. Bad childhoods leave a lasting effect on a child well into their adulthood, and probably for the whole of their lives. Some of these mistreated children commit suicide, not being able to handle the pain, some run away, thinking they can leave the pain behind (Which doesn't work, believe me), some clam up, repressing all that happened to them, burying it deep, hoping it will never be found, and a lucky few get out intact (Very, Very few.) My friend told me last night that we all need an outlet, something of which I am devoid. So I decided to borrow her idea, just to see if it worked for me, hence here is my second chapter, written not from my head, but from my heart.

* * *

Setting my nearly empty handbag down onto the sideboard, I glanced around my empty living room, searching for something to take my mind off the growing hollow pain in my chest. I tried to convince myself all I needed was time, letting the grief dissipate by itself, but as I sat on the couch and reached for the remote, I knew it wasn't going to be that easy. Instead, I collapsed, burying my head amongst the cushions, sobbing. Try as I might to keep all of my agony, tears and sorrow locked away from the world, it surfaced, and at that moment I couldn't have cared less who was watching. 

For those two hours on the beach, I prayed endlessly, pleading that he wouldn't cast me away and reject me. But he did. If I had stayed on that beach any longer than I did, I'd have stayed there all night, reeling in his dismissal, not caring if I got wet, not caring if I drowned. A few times in the past I have thought about ending it all, but there was always something there to stop me, a tiny ray of light no matter how dark my life got. But not this time.

If he did love me, he certainly didn't anymore, or he wouldn't have inflicted the final blow, the final nail in my coffin. Pain wasn't a new thing, but this wasn't pain. This crushing ache was heartbreak, something I hoped I'd never feel. I didn't think I could get any lower, especially after Jake left me for the sake of his career. That little incident seemed to prove all my worst fears; that I am, in fact, worth less than a job, that I am not important enough to merit spending time with. I was past rock bottom. There was rock bottom, fifty feet of crap and then me. Eric was there though. My light at the end of the tunnel. He couldn't make the pain disappear but he could show me life was worth living.

I have felt negative emotions all my life, only ever knowing the joy that life can bring when I was with him and if I couldn't be with him, then I wasn't sure I wanted to continue, live only a half life, an empty life, devoid of positive emotion.

I wrenched myself off the couch, and headed purposefully to the kitchen, only stopping briefly to make sure I looked presentable, not that it mattered much now. I selected the largest knife from the drawer, breathing deeply, preparing for my final act, showing the world that I was weak, that I just couldn't live with the pain and couldn't take living a with a cold heart, a frozen life any longer. So intent on this definitive performance, I didn't notice the sound of a key in the lock. So consumed by the gnawing agony in my heart, I didn't notice the front door slip open. I turned the knife towards my stomach, not hearing my name called out, the pounding and sounds of my own grief-stricken sobs in my ears rendering me deaf. I lifted the knife, only to feel warm arms snake around my middle, forming a barrier between the cold steel and myself. I dropped it as I span around, resting my head on his chest, breathing in his scent, crying, not for sorrow, but for joy, because my love had come back for me, the light at the end of the tunnel had been turned back on, and I was no longer alone in that cruel, dark world.

What I truly needed was him: To protect me, to hold my hand through the ups and downs, to love me. He gave me hope. So engrossed in my thoughts, I hardly noticed him carry me to my bed, wipe away my tears so I could see the warmth of life, the light of life … the positive. As I looked at him, I could see that he too was crying, hot tears drenching his face as he kissed my forehead and covered me with the duvet. He started to move away, but I held his hand, desperate for him to stay, not being able to see him walk out on me again. So he stayed, lying next to me, holding me close, pulling me near, saying the words I needed to hear, the words that confirmed that I was loved, that he had realised just like I did, realised how he needed me. I had a nagging feeling he was just saying those things, the words I wanted to hear, so I didn't make another suicide attempt but for the moment I didn't care. I just enjoyed the safe feeling he was providing because, in this world, we all need the one thing that is in short supply, something that can't be bought or traded or stolen, something that we have to find, deep within your soul…

… Love …

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Thank you for reading my drivel. You'll have to tell me if its any better than my normal stuff. Or worse. Whatever. 


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